


Leftovers

by HRH After Dark (hannahrhen)



Series: Good, Giving, Game [20]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Barebacking, Bodily Fluids, Comeplay, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/HRH%20After%20Dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Clean up your mess, Stark," Loki says, and it's that tone, the kneel-before-Zod one, and Tony stares down at the floor and--</p><p>Loki wants him to--</p><p>Oh. <em>Oh.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Leftovers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CalamityCain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/gifts), [Arkada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkada/gifts).



> As it turns out, it is very easy to encourage me to be porny. Arkada and CC have a lot to answer for! (Thank you!)

Tony tried to get his panting under control as he waited for his brains to settle back into his head.

Jesus. Loki ... was a _gift._ A gift that knew just how to fuck him, every time, yes, but this time taking him on the hard floor of the kitchen. Sneak attack: He’d barely seen it coming, half on his way to find something to drink or eat or, _okay,_ he’d been _bored,_ actually, and looking to occupy himself until his head moved on to the next thing on his list.

And then Loki had come up behind and--

Tony wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. Hadn’t seen Loki. Just felt that hand settle, firm, tight, on the back of his neck, squeezing a little, and then pushing him to his knees.

Tony had gone with it, yeah. It would have been a lie to say “without a word,” because Loki would never be that lucky, so there was some “horny, princess?” and “Daddy maybe isn’t up for a horsey ride right now,” but that also was a lie, because Daddy was up for anything. Especially when Loki yanked down Tony’s sweatpants, squeezed one ass cheek, and warned, “You’d better be ready for me quickly, Stark,” before setting himself to the task of--

Tony had shuddered and huffed through the quick slicking and fingering he’d gotten, not even thinking about resisting even though they were in the fucking kitchen and anyone--anyone--

When _was_ the cleaning crew due?

Come to think of it, where was Bruce? But then Loki had been on him and then over him and then _in him,_ so screw everyone else. Tie a scarf to the doorknob; if the kitchen’s a-rockin’, don’t come-a--

Turned out Loki--oh, _ooohhh, God_ \--was in the mood for cold and kind of brutal, because Tony would be tracing the bruises left where Loki gripped his thighs, knowing Loki’s hands had settled there because Tony’s hipbones already were dark with yesterday’s markings, and Loki wouldn't want to be _predictable._ Today’s strategy, yeah, hard and mean, with those shoves in shallow but quick, lube barely handling it, and Tony would have been embarrassed--

Would have been embarrassed about his sounds--

 _Would_ have been, but Loki had heard enough noises from him that Tony’s musical little grunts, those pure notes of need, would be taken as his due. Homage to the skill of that thrusting dick. And he didn’t know how Loki did it--it was fucking magic, like a gift Tony had been given in the shape of a looming man with a talented cock, but Tony was on the edge seemingly in no time, and his fingernails could have carved grooves into the solid wood floor, but his hands--his whole body was shaking too much, and he groaned Loki’s name loud and low as the god removed one clawed fist from Tony’s tender upper thigh and began to pull--just as roughly--on his cock.

Jesus. “Loki.”

A low groan from deep in his throat as his head hung down, and again: “Loki ... _Loki!”_

It hadn’t taken long, then--a minute, tops--and Tony moaned through his climax as he felt his body constricting around that jackhammer cock, and Loki fixed teeth into Tony’s shoulder, near-cutting, which, yeah, only made it better, and Tony shot the entire load of his balls over that dark wood floor, screaming that name again, tuneless, as his entire body stiffened.

Then sagged.

_Loki._

By the time his brains had swum back into his head, Tony was kneeling up, heels pressed into his ass, palms resting on the new bruises just blooming under the skin, and Loki--Loki was still behind him, standing now, and, God, that fuck had been over in under ten minutes, maybe eight, from the grabbing to the coming, and speaking of coming--

Someone needed to get a towel. The early-evening sun sparkled orange along the floor and lit up the stripes of Tony’s spill where they formed a pattern of long X’s, tangling as they cooled.

Tony could feel Loki’s jizz still dribbling out of his ass, too, and wasn’t _that_ a sensation he’d quickly gotten used to. Oh, _hooray_ for _barebacking._ Nothing-but-skin was fun, but it made cleanup a bitch. He leaned further back, dropping the curve of his skull against Loki’s own thigh, chuckling that--yeah--he still hadn’t actually seen his kitchen sneak-attacker, but based on the creaking, someone had managed to stay leathered up through the fuck.

“Nicely done, baby,” he offered. “ _Nicely_ done.” Heard Loki’s hum of agreement, the tone a little off, but Loki sometimes took extra time to snap out of his kneel-before-Zod mode. Tony glanced down--come, still there. Yeah, Loki, that fucker, could pull his head out of his leather-clad ass and help clean this up, anyway.

Barely taking his attention from the evidence, he waved in the direction of the large island to their left. “Listen, Merry Maid, can you reach up there and get me a tow--”

Then the hand was back on his neck, jolting Tony out of the sentence. And he heard an unnerving little chuckle.

“No, Stark, I think you should have to clean up your own mess, using the means you have available.” And then that pressure--down, down, tilting Tony’s face to the floor with a curl of fingers to his occipital bone. Because he wanted Tony to--?

_Oh._

Ew.

Uh, _no._ Tony pushed back, neck slipping from Loki’s fingers before it was caught again. “Ha, yeah--listen.” He twisted, but the grip wouldn’t give. “If there’s one thing you should have learned about me, it’s that I like to let _other_ people have the pleasure of cleaning up my messes.” But the hand didn’t go away--didn’t relent--and Tony--

Tony got a little twinge somewhere in his belly, a tiny spark lighting itself up in the round warmth of post-orgasm satiety. He stopped moving after he felt it, stopped fighting. Oh, he knew what _that_ was. Let out one slow breath through his nose, stared ahead at the sun-blinded windows as he--

Yeah. Got it.

Loki’s voice had been practiced chill, that “clean up your own mess,” and then a quieter, “I’m afraid I must insist, Stark,” while Tony had wriggled, and Tony wondered--just for a moment, as he considered his own pleasure spilled on the floorboards, pleasure that Loki had given him ... He wondered what triggered these itches. What wrapped Loki around Tony in pliant receptiveness one day, and, then, the next--

Apparently _must-insisting_ Tony lap his own jizz from the floor.

One efficient shove, then, and Tony was pushed to his hands as he heard Loki drop back to his knees behind him, still unseen, but leather, metal straining. Maintaining contact--maintaining control with that same hand.

Tony knew how he must look, on all fours, hovering over those pearled letters now framed by his palms. And he knew Loki wouldn’t look away.

And then Loki spoke. “I love most ways you use your mouth, Stark,” he said, voice slipping over from off to the side. Now that Tony was down, the hand on his neck gentled. The thumb moved up and down in a slow stroke that left twitching skin in its wake. “Let’s see if this suits, shall we?”

And Tony couldn’t ... couldn’t _not,_ could he, with that voice just behind him, that hand now-sweet on his neck, more of an honor system than an order, and Loki just ... just waiting to see. Wondered, yes, how long it had been since these floors were washed. They gleamed with wax marred by the occasional scuff of a shoe, but he’d seen Loki move over these floors on his bare feet, seen the others step lightly or thud heavily, and when _had_ the cleaning crew last come--

Yeah. Come.

Because Loki wanted to _see._

“Yeah,” his voice was a little choked. “Yeah, okay.”

Loki made a pleased sound and that was ... that was enough.

Tony lowered his face then, arched his back to encourage whatever touch he’d be granted, and pressed his tongue, flat and wide and now without hesitation, to the tail of the nearest streak. His eyes shut, then, and opened again, because he couldn’t exactly do this blind, could he.

His fingernails scraped across the wood.

Loki’s sigh ... Loki’s sigh was pure music. The one hand strayed from his neck finally, to the plane between his shoulders where it just settled encouragingly. The other moved to his flank and stroked once, then found the purpled fingerprints on Tony’s hip and stroked those, too.

Making little noises between inhales, Tony washed the floor with the flat of his tongue, stopping to swallow the cooling, bitter fluid that collected. His own fluid, his own semen, pushed out by Loki’s blessed fuck, and now taken back into his body, devoured. Part of Tony once more.

God. Loki was a _gift._

That spark in his belly flared. He felt the fingers of the wandering hand slide to his ass, and Tony knew he had his own gift in return. To take the spark of Loki’s own want and blow that shit up into an inferno. He shifted his legs apart, arched his back a little more, so Loki could see the leftovers of his earlier taking. Tony’s swollen, aching hole, the semen pulsing out with every (now intentional) clench. Dribbling down his taint to collect and drip from his balls.

Loki produced an impressive amount of come, Tony thought as he continued to clean up his own.

He shifted on the floor, hands walking him out, stretching his spine long to reach ... Tasted again, swallowed again, and then, turning his head just slightly, whispered that name in a breaking voice.

“Loki.”

If Loki hadn’t known the effect--ah, but Loki, of course, had, and his hand teased through the come leaking from Tony’s ass, followed the trail around his sac, and ran a hand encouragingly over the renewing erection he found in the vee of Tony’s braced legs.

Teasing Loki? Pretty much never went just _one_ way.

Yeah, just ... _unidirectional._ Tony chuckled as he heard Loki move around behind him, that unmistakable sound of leather folding over itself, and, with now-gentle hands, encourage Tony’s knees further apart to give himself room, again. Take up a familiar hold on Tony’s finger-bruised hips.

But no one could say Tony wasn’t thorough. He made sure that, even from the new angle, Loki could still hear the wet drag of his tongue as he erased what was left of his _(first)_ orgasm, as he took that last swallow and stretched himself out in satisfaction, oh, _God,_ a job well done.

Then he groaned yet again, mouth left hanging open, stupid-slack, as that thick cock slid home. Timed just right, because Loki could do maximum effect, and speared through the dripping mess-- _Loki’s mess,_ dammit--and took up a rhythm that was slower, and harder, and absolutely perfect.

“That was ... inspired, Tony,” Loki whispered in his ear, voice gentle again and fond, and Tony ... he couldn't help it--he _preened._

“You inspire me,” Tony answered back, and moved his spine upward into Loki’s abdomen, and his neck closer to Loki’s teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on tumblr](http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com), looking for all the Winter Soldier fix-it fic, please. PLEASE. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
